A Valentine's Day Disaster
by bethster102
Summary: A random oneshot, set a couple of months after Hollywood's Not America. Alex tries to buy Rose a Valentine's Day gift, only to be met with, well, disaster. Cameo by Sabina Pleasure. Supporting roles feature Tom and Mr Blunt.


**Thanks XxXmaximuM****-RideRXxX :)**

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Tom clutched his phone in shock. "You're…buying your EX-GIRLFRIEND a Valentine's day present? Are you out of your mind? Do you have ANY idea what she wants? This can go so wrong… girls get all pissy when we buy them the wrong thing. They start spinning the whole "you-clearly-don't-know-me-or-you-would-have-never-got-me-the-effin'-pink-one" crap, even if pink's their favorite color. Don't even start with that drama if you're not practically legally required to!"

On the other end, Alex sighed. "I need a way of telling her that I still lo—want her. And unlike you, I remember Valentine's day. I forgot her VMA thing and she got really pissed."

Tom hooted. "No sympathy here, mate. Now you know what it's like to be the rest of us sorry lads. Except not with the VMA thingy."

"Yeah, well, sucks to be you. Now I need to do something to unpiss her off."

Tom frowned. Unpissing girls off had never been his forte. "Ummm….. what does she like? Buy her something nice."

"She sort of has everything already…."

"BS. No girl can resist shoes and handbags and all that crap. Remember Maya? Her sister randomly _assaulted_ me and started kissing me. _Clearly_ not my fault—" He ignored Alex's snigger—"and I thought she might actually kill me, but one insanely expensive handbag later and I things were right as rain in Mayaland."

"Maya's the blond?"

"Nah, that's Anya. Keep 'em straight, dude."

Alex snorted. "How can you expect me to, when you can't keep them straight yourself? Now back to my problem. I need to buy her something she _really wants."_

"Chocolate."

"Doesn't eat."

"Flowers. Roses."

"Oh, how original."

"Fine. What's her favorite thing to shop for?"

Alex thought back to the enormous room sized closet next to Rose's bedroom. "Shoes."

"Alright, you got yourself a massive headache in the form of ladies' footwear. Size?"

"7 ½."

"Brand?"

"How should I know?"

"This was the girl you spent every waking second with for a month, and you're telling me she never once mentioned a favorite brand of shoes? This girl is cooler then I imagined."

"She's cooler then you'll ever be, mate. And yeah she did… I just don't remember."

There was a pointed silence as Tom scowled. "Think harder."

"Just kidding. Oh yeah…there was this guy who's name sounded like a sneeze."

"That doesn't really narrow it down…"

The call waiting alarm beeped frantically on Alex's cell. Caller ID said "M".

"Tom, I got to go, Blunt's calling."

Tom sounded concerned. "Another mission? So soon?"

"Nah, not this time. The Queen wants to congratulate me on my killer performance in the face of danger and possible death."

"Screw you, lucky bastard."

"I was joking. It's a debriefing. Customary. Mandatory. Boring as hell."

"Haha, you poor sonofabitch. Football at three—if you can make it. Sucker."

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The Royal and General bank was beginning to feel eerily familiar, thought Alex, as he rode up in the elevator_. I could get around this place blindfolded_. He walked into Blunt's office without bothering to knock. With any luck, he could be out of here in time for football practice.

The fates refused to smile on him. He was right—it was boring as hell. And it took forever… He really didn't want to hear the _riveting_ account of how Mr Blunt had argued with the Prime Minister about whether or not the terrorists should have whole wheat and/or white bread available to them. Last time he checked, the mission was over. Done. Closed.

Mr Blunt finally finished. "Do you have any questions?"

Alex had to ask. "Yes, actually. Do you know the name of a brand that sounds like a sneeze that makes shoes at ridiculous prices?"

Mr Blunt was rarely speechless, but this time he made an exception.

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Alex did the only thing he could think of. He called Sabina.

"Alex babe!"

"Hey, Sab. Listen, can I ask you a favor?"

"Whatever you want, I'm yours." Was there a double meaning there?

"I need the name of the brand that sounds like a sneeze. Shoes."

Sabina sucked in a breath, disappointed, but soon perked up. "Oh….you mean Jimmy Choo? Alex, you know I _haaaate_ presents!"

"That's why I'm not buying it for you," Alex muttered, to quietly for Sabina to hear. "Thanks a million, Sabina. Talk to you later…" He hung up and headed to Tom's house.

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"Tom. I need you to help me find the perfect pair of shoes."

"Right, cuz I'm the expert."

"Seriously. Help."

"Seriously. All I know about shoes is…nothing, actually. But hot girls are always hanging around those stores. I'll see what I can do…"

Alex groaned. Three hours later and—_they all looked exactly the same._

The Jimmy Choo store on Oxford Street was a palace of frosted glass and white couches, surrounding little coffee tables full of shoes, with gold placards on each and every table. The staff were dressed in black, and all reminded Alex of Tamara Knight in her more frigid outfits. Hushed classical music played soothingly, discouraging rich ladies from having nervous breakdowns before they could hand over their credit cards. The place was designed to give off the aura of _the economy doesn't affect us, we live in a bubble of class and style. Now pay up._

Alex thought of the thing Jack had said to him, over the cover of _Cosmo_. She had said, "New shoes cure the blues." _Wrong. _New shoes _caused_ the blues.

Tom looked over at Alex incredulously, holding a little gold placard that he had just swiped off the table in his hand He cleared his throat pompously and began to read, in a high falsetto:

"It is the fragrant lack of practicality that makes high-heeled shoes so fascinating: in terms of static mechanics they induce a sort of insecurity which some find titillating. If a woman wears a high-heeled shoe it changes the apparent musculature of the leg so that you get an effect of twanging sinew, of tension needing to be released. Her bottom sticks out like an offering. At the same time, the lofty perch is an expression of vulnerability, she is effectively hobbled and unable to escape. There is something arousing about this declaration that she is prepared to sacrifice function for form.—Stephen Bayley."

Alex and Tom were laughing so hard by the time Tom reached the end that he could barely choke out Stephen Bayley's name. The staff's glares were almost tangible in their disapproval.

"They advertise this—and it _works_—girls are so damn weird!"

Alex tossed down a pink pair of stilettos. "Screw this. I'm buying her a surfboard."  
Tom snorted. "How romantic."

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**I'm way too fond of shoes, especially heels! I love them, and Jimmy Choo makes some fabulous ones. They are officially smashing.**

**With that said-- sometimes the fashion obsession borders (waaaay crosses the border) on the ridiculous, and thats why I think healthy to spend at least two hours a day with guys who don't care if you're wearing Ralph Lauren or Juicy Couture. Or even know what those are. **

**That's not why I wrote this chapter lol. I wrote it because I kind of miss writing Alex and Rose, and I'm itching to do a sequel but I can't settle on one plot! Ideas, guys??**

**Review!! I wrote this oneshot partly because of a review I got. They are so much fun!**

**(On a really random side note, I had my last midterm today--French. The French teacher (native of Mexico City) comes in to answer questions and says to this poor guy who just choked on some water: "If you cough one more time you'll be coughing in the office!" So he coughs, on purpose, cz thats just who he is. Then he gets up to go. She looks at him and starts screaming, "you get up one more time and I'll send you to the office!" So he starts putting his stuff away, and says that he's going to the office now. So she screams, "you go to the office and I'll send you to the office!" **

**That had nothing to do with anything, I just thought it was funny.)**


End file.
